True Love On A Schedule
by MyHistrionics
Summary: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Multiple Chapter. Klaine!/TiMER!AU In-Progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others. 

**A/N:** First chapter fic. Give me some slack and review for good measure. Haha.

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

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><p><em>March 8, 2012<em>

Blaine Anderson sat still on his living room couch; hands folded neatly in his lap with his back straight. Every part of his posture screamed that he was a proper child of money and reputation. His edgy, hazel eyes shifted from his mother sitting beside him, to his father on his designated chair, and then to the Matchmaker before making the next round. The adults were casually discussing the procedure. The Matchmaker explained the purpose of the stamp; the technology behind it; and how the implantation wouldn't feel any different than getting a simple stud pierced though the ear lobe.

The Matchmaker, who he quickly learned was named Becky, or Matcher Becky, expressed the pain would subside almost instantly after being implanted. Blaine had never gotten his ears pierced; there weren't too many men in his family that donned that type of accessory on their person. Those who did were normally the rebellious kin who would eventually soon find themselves dismissed from the family name; Uncle Vincent was the only exception. He married into the family already with money in tow; fresh off the boat from the boot heel. The Anderson family never questioned his motives; their trust could be bought with the finances he questionably seemed to bring in.

Family history aside, he didn't really understand how it felt to have his ears, or any part of him for that matter, pierced. There were only two people in the room who did, and it definitely wasn't his stoic father who was watching the chattering women, elbows on his knees, chin leaning into his laced fingers. He wasn't too keen on the procedure, no matter how much his wife tried to sell him the idea. She articulated how important it was for kids nowadays to get the implant early; how statistics has shown that getting it done as soon as possible decreased risky behavior early into the teenage years, mostly due to the guilt.

Mrs. Anderson turned to her son with a wide, perfectly bleached grin.

"This will be good for you, dear. This way you won't have to worry about frivolity and getting into any trouble. You can focus on getting into college and your work; and when the count reaches zero we can figure out brand new plan for your future and building a new family."

Matcher Becky cleared her throat and she tapped her fingers on her chrome plated briefcase.  
>"Ma'am, I hope you do understand that there is no assurance when he will meet his match. It is quite possible that as soon as he gets fitted with the TiMER, it will reach zero and he will meet his match within the next 24 hours."<p>

"Oh, well, I surely doubt that," Mrs. Anderson smiled with a high pitched laughed. She reached a multiple ring and bangle clad hand over to place on top of her son's.  
>"Blaine's just too busy with school work now anyways to worry about running into all of those girls. He's been accepted into Dalton Academy, don't you know. Such wonderful credentials there. Congressmen, Senators, lawyers; I can't even count the numbers that's have graduated from that wonderful school.<p>

The Matchmaker forced a smile and a barely visible nod at Mrs. Anderson, but Blaine could practically see that thought bubble forming above her head: Prissy, fastidious, and undeniably uptown. And he wouldn't have denied it either had she said it.  
>Of course, it couldn't be helped. His mother was always like this as long as he could remember. It was all about the best for her son and her family; all about the public eye, appearance, and reputation.<p>

Always reputation. And today was no exception.

As soon as she overheard the neighbors or her club friends discussing their child's futures that always included the TiMER procedure as soon as they turned the legal age of 14, she scheduled Blaine an appointment right away. Lucky for Blaine, today was that special day; and with it came a brand new, permanent implant into his skin.

"Well, let's get started, shall we? I've already explained all of the details to you, had Blaine sign, and you've signed the forms indicating parental consent. Now, Mrs. Anderson, if you could move off of the couch so we can have Blaine lay down and be a bit more comfortable."

Mrs. Anderson all but flew away from the couch in excitement; her stood behind her husband and squeezed his shoulder. "Isn't this exciting dear? We might as well plan the wedding today," she chortled, fingers covering her lips.

Mr. Anderson released a noise from his throat; to anyone else it would have seemed like a growl if displeasure, but his wife just took it as an indication that he was listening. As she always did.

As Blaine turned himself sideways to lay back along the couch, his mother cleared her throat loudly.  
>"Shoes, dear. You know better."<p>

"Oh, right. I'm sorry, mom," Blaine nodded, quickly untying his polished-leather shoes and placing them neatly in front of the couch. After receiving a nod of approval from his mother, he turned again and rested his back down along the couch.

The Matchmaker kneeled down beside him on the floor and opened her chrome case, removing a large contraption that unnervingly resembling a large caliber gun. How quaint. She then set up a small stand with a dipped in top; just high enough for Blaine to rest his arm in comfortably, which he was then instructed to do. It seemed all so medical: how the Matchmaker inspected his pulse on his right wrist; how she cleaned and sterilized the area and inspected any abnormalities. When she seemed satisfied, she picked up her terrifying white gun-like tool and patted his hand.

"I'll count back from 3 for you hun, okay?"

Blaine gave a curt nod, shifting his feet a little in anticipation. Honestly, he just wanted it to be over with as soon as possible; no countdown necessary. But, being a gentleman he decided to humor his mother and Matcher Becky.

"Here we go. And 3…2…1…"

Blaine gasped and squeezed his eyes closed hard as jolt of pain radiated throughout his body. It was the most bizarre feeling he had ever experienced. There was no way a piercing would ever feel like this; it just felt like something was coursing through his body, reading each particle that made him…him. Just then, almost as soon as it happened, the pain was gone. Completely gone.

"And that's all there is too it." the lady smiled, as she cleaned the tip of her implanter with an alcohol pad.

Mrs. Anderson leapt over to her son and grabbed his wrist. Her forehead wrinkled in a most unattractive way as a look of confusion glossed her eyes. "Why are the numbers moving so fast?"

"It's just calculating; calibrating to the body of new host. Just give it a moment," she stated as she placed her gun in its proper compartment before shortening the arm stand.

Blaine glanced down to the wrist his mother held and watched his new accessory in awe. The beeping, flickering, and scanning numbers seemed to go on forever. It was fascinating really, more so than he thought it would be.

Eventually the screen went completely blank, and he felt his mothers breathing practically halt in anticipation. Then, once more, the screen lit up again with a much unexpected result:

—_.—.—.—.—.—_

Mrs. Anderson shook her head and released a disapproving noise from her nose. "There's something wrong. I think it's defective."

Matcher Becky snapped her case shut and peered over to Blaine's wrist.  
>"Oh, no. That's normal; it just means that his match hasn't gotten an implant yet."<p>

The confused look on Mrs. Andersons face never left. "I-I don't understand. So does that mean they might be a bit younger, or…"

"No, not exactly; not all parents go out to get TiMER's for their kids the first day they're legal to get one. Although, it's recommended now to decrease the risky behavior (Blaine caught his mother's smile to his father still sitting on his chair), it's possible there are people who just prefer not to have one at all."

"So, you mean…"

The Matchmaker stood to make her way toward the door, her briefcase in hand. "Unless his soul mate decides to get a TiMER implantation, it's possible he may have to either play the waiting game or just…live."

Mrs. Anderson's stunned look indicated she had not considered this scenario at all. She looked up to Blaine and then over to her husband, who was just simply staring at his wife.

"Thank you for your purchase, I hope you find your happy ending," the Matcher stated to Blaine in a sing-song, nearly scripted voice. She reached out a hand to Mrs. Anderson who stood up quickly before shaking it. "Good day to you, ma'am."

Mr. Anderson stood from his chair and held a hand out to Matcher Becky as she turned toward him. "And to you, too, sir," she smiled, receiving a brief nod in return. "Please let us know if there are any complications, your satisfaction is import to us."  
>With a final smile to her customers, the Matchmaker left through the door held open by Mrs. Anderson.<p>

Blaine peered down at his wrist, waiting for his mother to come back into the room to break the uneasy silence. "Well," he finally said with a smile, "I guess this means I have more time to focus on school, right mom?"

This idea brought on a more relaxed look on his mothers face as she clapped her hands together. "Yes, yes. Absolutely. Whoever she is won't be an issue right now, we'll just work on prepping you for your future as a lawyer, just like your father."

So much for just living.


	2. Chapter 2

**Full Summary:** The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others.

**A/N:** Very short chapter. Sorry

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

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><p><em>Five Months Later<em>

Blaine adjusted his uniform blazer while taking a step through the mahogany door of the prestigious Dalton academy, his parents close in tow. Orientation was mandatory for the newly enrolled freshmen the Sunday before the fall semester began. He glanced around nervously, feeling the TiMER implant on his wrist as he stroked it with his thumb. He watched the line of families inside the lobby, already well into conversations about their children and their future ambitions—most likely the parents ambitions for the child.

He felt like a sheep being added to a brand new flock as the neighborhood farmers gathered them together in a cramped enclosure. Actually, a sheep would indicate he was naïve and stupid. He wasn't stupid; he was just doing as was expected of him. Perhaps a trained pup with a pedigree would be more accurate of an example; a pup with a pedigree and a personal dog tag that indicated how he should plan his life.

"Now, dear, stand up straight. And please, don't fidget. These are important people you're around and you want to make a good first impression." Mrs. Anderson sighed and brushed off her son's shoulders, tilting up his chin so she could inspect her work. "Oh dear, perhaps I should have added more gel. I can see some strands falling out of place."

"Leave the boy be, Gloria," Mr. Anderson gruffed behind his wife. He was never one for crowds, and this was no exception.

"Oh, I just want him to look handsome today. First impressions mean everything, you know," she smiled to her husband, although Blaine could see her grin didn't nearly come as close to her eyes as it usually did. She instantly turned her attention across the lobby and raised her hand in the air for a short wave. "Oh, look, it's the Scarlottans. Old money family; come on dear, let's go introduce you."

And that's how the day went: Blaine being shuffled around from family to family. He shook so many hands he felt as if his arm would either give out or completely fall off if he had to greet anyone else. He noticed some of the boys he came across were just as enthusiastic about the whole ordeal as he was. Blaine also noticed how many of them had a TiMER implanted on their wrist as well. He could tell some of them were fairly new by the way the boys fiddled or poked at them with their thumb.

After the families shared their own stories of wealth and success, it was onto the dormitories for those interested in staying within the campus: the set up of the separate houses, the layout of the rooms, how curfew was strictly implemented. From there, a handful of professors discussed the experiences each student could expect while attending the school as well as a brief explanation of their lesson plans. Blaine only perked up momentarily at the mention of a glee club; perhaps Dalton had some perks after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others. 

**A/N:** Very long chapter this time. LoL.

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

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><p>The shrill beeping of an alarm clock began to stretch to the far corners of the dark bedroom. A muffled groan came from the large pile of pillows stacked at the head of the mattress. A manicured hand poked itself from the cushioned cave towards the bedside table, reaching around blindly for the origin of the vexing noise. The hand overshot the clock by a few inches, causing it to fall to the ground with an obnoxious thud; however, it was not obnoxious enough to silence the crude object. Another groan—more disgruntled than the former—rumbled from the pillows as a head emerged. With the power of sight, the clock was able to be discovered at a much easier pace as well as silenced.<p>

A sigh of relief escaped lips as the bed occupant relaxed underneath the swell of blankets. Saturday meant no classes, and at least another hour of lazy sleep before it was time to greet the day. Although, not everyone in the house apparently felt the same as a knock rattled the bedroom door.

"Hey, buddy," a rough voice called from the other side of the door.

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhmf," was the automatic response.

"Want to help out with some breakfast? Carole took Finn out to his dentist appointment earlier, so it's just you and me this morning, kiddo."

He wouldn't have moved otherwise, but food intake had to be observed in this household. When there was no answer, the voice repeated the request.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, yes. I'm coming," Kurt answered, forcing himself onto his feet and off of his bed. He looked over to his vanity of skin conditioners and lotions and decided against the routine right away, which—if anyone knew Kurt Hummel—was a big ordeal. The truth is, he was dead tired as has been for quite a few days. Blurred faces and ticking began to haunt his dreams; blurred faces with clocks in place of eyes and a mouth to be more precise. It was not the most comforting thing to experience, even in a dream world. He had become just frazzled enough by it to cause curious and embarrassed looks to focus his way. The first disaster was the day his father, Burt, took him, his new step-mother Carole, and her son Finn out to a very nice restaurant prior to their engagement. Unbeknownst to Kurt, the lobby homed a grandfather clocked that always chimed the hour; needless to say, when the tolls of 7pm filled the room, Kurt managed to knock over a chair, trip a waiter carrying a plate of desserts, and ruin a very histrionic woman's white dress all by standing up in surprise. It was the talk of the night on the ride home, especially by Finn who was amused how it was "all-together Kurt" and not "clumsy-feet Finn" who caused the catastrophe. Kurt was not shy to give him a smack to the back of the head when the suggestion of getting a grandfather clock for the living room came out of the teenager's mouth.

Kurt rubbed the sleep from his eyes and dragged his feet towards the steps, cursing the fact that his father pulled himself all the way up just to get him up for breakfast. His heart was not in the condition to be overworked with the tissue scaring from his heart attack just months before. He let gravity do its job to pull him down the steps as he all but galloped down to the first level.

As he turned the corner into the kitchen he recognized the sound of the television echoing from the living room. He peered over his shoulder to the screen and came in contact with the familiar early morning news broadcast. Today marked the 40th anniversary of the accursed "TiMER" creation (30th on the market), and the TV stations were scheduled to show montages of former news updates and biographical segments about the device. Kurt leaned against the kitchen door jam and peered at the screen, humoring himself by watching the coming montage:

A blonde, female news anchor introduced the scene; an image of a heart and a countdown timer was green-screened strategically on the left side of her head.

"_If a clock could count down to the exact moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know? That's the claim of manufacturers of a new device called the TiMER. The next evolutionary step in computer match making, the TiMER lets you know when your perfect match has entered your life."_

Cut scene to a pan out of a desk with a few first generation of TiMERs and a scientist in a lab coat, as so many science-based segments do.

_"Scientists have discovered that all humans are on a path to true love. Implanted just after the onset of puberty, and powered by body heat, the TiMER monitors level of oxytocin, the hormone of love."_

A second voice fades in as images of TiMER prototypes cover the screen.

_"It zeros-out at midnight the night before, and then the next day it could go off at any second, and you meet your soul mate."_

And cue the cheesy, TiMER Inc. commercial of a woman on a picnic blanket enjoying the sun, a Frisbee falling by her side, an attractive male racing towards her, and the series of happy beeps emitting from their wrists as their eyes find each others.

_"Are you tired of sitting around waiting for love? Your days of watching and wondering are over. Say goodbye to heartache and disappointment. Now you can be on the clock - true love on a schedule. Introducing TiMER, a revolutionary device that tells you not only_who_your soul mate is, but__ when __you'll meet them. TiMER, take the guess work out of love."_

The next set of scenes that followed were filled with the public: those who talked up the device as the greatest thing in the world; those who were uncomfortable and confused about the technology; love stories; stories of conquest and waiting; and more scientific talk.

Kurt shook his head as he entered the kitchen, heading over towards the fridge to retrieve a bottle of orange juice. "Can we not have that on all day? I just hate listening to it." He moved over towards the cabinet and poured himself a glass of juice, holding the door open with a hip before returning the bottle to the shelf. It wasn't one of his most glorious habits, but he was too tired to care. He took a sip and placed it on the island counter before turning to help his dad with the eggs. "Every time I hear about it, it just freaks me out."

Burt chuckled as he took a mixing bowl from the cabinet. "I don't see why you have a problem with this sort of stuff, buddy. Aren't you into all that romance and soul mate stuff?"

Kurt sighed, and took the bowl from his father before reaching for the measuring cup. "Yes, dad, which is why I see the TiMER as barbaric." He reached over and grabbed a whisk from the utensil drawer, wielding it around like an exaggerated extension of his arm as if to emphasize his points. "It completely removes the idea of the search and the speculation, or the heart pounding questions like: 'maybe this will be the one', or 'will I meet them today'? That is old fashioned romance; otherwise it's just making fun of the whole thing. No offense, anyways."

A small smile crept onto the corners of his father's lips as he filed the measuring cup with water up to the appropriate point. "None taken."

After working in silence besides the gentle tapping of kitchen utensils and the hiss of the eggs meeting the gently Crisco coated pan, Kurt looked up to his dad placing the used bowls in the dishwasher. "I'm not going to lie, dad, but you just never seemed like the kind of guy who would be into that sort of thing. TiMERs I mean. So, why did you?"

Burt closed the dishwasher and grabbed a towel to wipe the excess moisture from his hands. "Oh, I know I've told you this before."

Kurt shook his head as he watched the egg whites cook, spatula in hand. "I think I would have remembered something like that."

"Are you serious," Burt asked with a shocked laugh, tossing the towel onto the counter much to Kurt's disapproving stare. "I think this is something I would have told you."

"Dad, you're stalling."

Burt walked over to the island counter and leaned back against it, arms crossed over his chest. He took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over his balding head, and placed it back into the crook of his elbow. "Well, it's actually kind of a crazy story. You see, your mom and I met when we were pretty young. Late teens, early twenties; the young and crazy years."

Kurt smiled as he fiddled the eggs with the spatula; stories about his late mother always brought a grin to his face, especially when his father was the narrator of the tale. "She was a knock out; could stop the damn Macy's Day parade with a smile if she wanted to. For some reason she chose me, out of all those other guys with the bikes and the muscle cars, while all I had was a rusted pick-up my dad helped me fix from the junk yard a neighbor owned and helped out around the yard to pay off the parts. Apparently, she thought it showed character, that I worked hard for the practical things I wanted instead of having some flashy, useless things handed to me by my folks."

Kurt grabbed a few pieces of fat-reduced cheese to strip down for the eggs; knowing that, even though it was more on the healthier side, his dad would appreciate the additive to normally bland eggs whites. After mixing it well together, he filled the two plates with the scrambled eggs and toast he had prepared during his father's story. Burt thanked his son as he grabbed his plate off the counter and sat on a stool at the island, watching Kurt grab an orange to cut out of the fruit bowl.

"After a few days meeting up at the town In and Out Burger, sharing a cola or two, we sort of started getting more serious. I mean, here was this perfect woman, there was no way I was gonna give up someone as incredible as her. And I guess she felt the same about me. We'd been throwing around the idea of TiMER's when they were the new thing-"

Kurt made a small noise at the mention of the device as he sat across from his father, placing the sliced of fruit between them.

"Hey, now, you're the one who wanted to hear this story, kid."

Kurt rolled his eyes with a smile and picked up a fork."Fine, I'm sorry. Go on."

After taking a mouthful, much to Kurt's disgust, Burt continued to talk between chews. "I mean, it was just a damn crazy idea; this thing that would let you know when you'd meet your soul mate. We laughed it off at first, but then one night we had a few too many and walked ourselves down the street to the Matching Clinic an hour before it closed for the night. We weren't thinking about what if it worked or if it didn't; although, in hindsight, you'd think that would have been a smart idea. She got hers first, but it was still blank. Then, when it was my turn and I was lying down on that bench with them holding my arm down, I thought, '_Shit, what if this is actually going to happen? What if this girl who I am desperately in love with was _The One?' All I remember is shutting my eyes as tight as possible, expecting this searing amount of pain like a stab in the arm. Then, all of a sudden, Liz started to breathe really jagged-like. It's usually what she did before she started to let the tears flow, remember? So, I opened my eyes to ask her what was wrong and it just went off. The place went crazy, there were people asking us all sorts of questions. Apparently this hadn't happened in the clinic before."

Burt took a swig from his water glass and placed it back onto the counter top. His eyes didn't stray away from the glass right away, but lingered on the reflective liquid. "I guess I always sort of knew. But, that right there, it was something solid. It was real. We wasted no time and got married a week later. Her folks weren't too happy about that, but it was okay. We didn't do anything too crazy after that; we waited some time before you came along. We were just so excited that we found each other so early. After she died, I just didn't want to see that blank screen and think about how she isn't here anymore. So, first chance that came around, I got it removed."

Burt peered up from the glass and settled his sights on his son across the way. He moved his plate away from him slightly to cross his arms over the surface. "Apparently that doesn't happen too often, you know? People finding their soul mates early without the help of some TiMER to give them a hand."

Kurt worked on his final bite of egg slowly and sighed after the last swallow. "And that's nice for you, dad; but it's just not my cup of tea," he smiled weakly as he stood up to grab his father's empty plate. As he crossed to the sink to rinse off any residue before placing them into the dishwasher, he heard the musical interlude of a news update. He peered up curiously, his dad still facing the TV.

A set of duo anchors for the morning news segment appeared on the screen, settled professionally at their desk.

_"For those of you who are unaware of the most recent update to the TiMER software, the device is now familiar with the concept of multiple soul mates. Now, this does not mean that if you were to get more than one implant they would have different times."_

_"Multiple implants? Do some people really do that?"_

_"There are the eager bodies out there, John. However, it's not recommended that you receive multiple TiMER's on a body, as it could cause serious damage to the nerves. Upon implantation, the TiMER is supposed to count down the time of your meeting the individual whose soul is the MOST connected to your own."_

_"Well, if the TiMER only picks up one soul mate, how does it recognize others?"_

_"If your soul mate were to pass on before you, the TiMER is now indeed capable of resetting to the next individual who may have lost their own primary soul mate or in fact received a TiMER implant after your own soul mate's passing; however, the chances of this occurring are very slim. Not everyone who loses their soul mate will be able to find a second match."_

_"How does the TiMER decide whether or not you have another match?"_

_"The TiMER can recognize the connection between two souls due to the percentage of functioning body chemicals, personality correlations, among other things. As expected, the connection between you and your primary soul mate is at it's highest at 100%. With this new update, the TiMER can now find new connections up to 98%. Anybody outside this range, however, will not be picked up."_

Kurt scoffed and raised a hand towards the television. "Look at that. It's not even a set in stone. There's more than one out there which continues to augment conclusion that these things are absolutely ridiculous."

"I bet if I kept mine and Carole recently got one, mine would have restarted."

Kurt stood still a moment, staring at his father whose eyes never left the screen, even after the segment switched over. He wasn't really watching it at this point; Kurt could tell he was lost in thought with the way his eyes glossed. His father was so big on this TiMER business that it sometimes broke his heart he didn't feel the same way, but he couldn't help it. The idea was insane and confusing. This soul mate is usually a complete stranger, and talking to his friends now was awkward enough for him at times. Although, despite his negative attitude towards the device, he had to agree with his father. Carole was perfect for him; well, the both of them really. The whole thing started out as a stupid rouse to get closer to Finn; however, even though his father fell instantly, the plan backfired due to an important factor: Finn was undoubtedly, and undeniably straight.

It took a while, but they all settled in together and got more comfortable; Kurt, with having a woman in the house, and Finn with having a father figure. Finn could be best described as a tall (very tall), stereotypical jock. Meaning that, he wasn't exactly the brightest Crayola in the crayon box. He had a good heart, though; it just took a bit for his head to catch up and realize that bullying wasn't who he was no matter what the other guys did. Like Kurt, he didn't have a TiMER either, but that wasn't really due to avid protest about the device. TiMER's weren't exactly given away off the street; well, legally and safely anyways. They were a bit pricey, especially for a high school student. Also, it wasn't really something he had pondered over; he just wanted to pass high school. His girlfriend on the other hand—the ever-so-talented and boisterous Rachel Berry—begged her fathers for one as soon as she hit the legal age. Unlike most people, she didn't see the TiMER in a romantic fashion. Instead, it was more of a way to schedule her path to stardom; with the advantage of knowing when she would meet her soul mate, she could easily plan around them and work on herself without the worry of searching for a perfect partner. The only problem was that it was still blank. She consistently urged Finn to get one, completely obsessed with the idea that he was the perfect someone for her. Even though he continues to explain how he can't afford it right now, there's no denying that he'll get one for her at some point.

Kurt, however, would never succumb to such nonsense.


	4. Chapter 4

Full Summary: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others. 

**A/N:** Just to make sure it's easy to follow, most of this is a glimpse into the past. Sorry if the TiMER part is a bit slow, but I wanted to give some background. :D Reviews rock, btw! 

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

Blaine leaned over his algebra textbook in his dorm, his cheek resting on his palm. He ticked his pencil against the book page he was currently focused on, staring endlessly in an effort to memorize the formula he needed to complete the next equation.

"Dr. Harris is a bitch," called a voice from the opposite side of the room. Blaine turned sideways in his chair and smirked at the boy who seemed just as irritated over his math homework as he was.

"This is ludicrous; when am I ever going to need this? I plan on being a choir director after my 20 year minimum broadway spectacular; unless we sing some ridiculous School House Rock nonsense about addition, doing any of this is stupid," the boy sighed, tossing down his pencil in an exasperated—and also exaggerated—fashion, seeing as the pencil ended up dropping to the floor.

"They want us to learn basic skills, Trent. Just in case, for some unknown reason, we're faced with the apocalypse and the only way to survive is to correctly answer the formula for—," he paused a moment to look at his book and slowly read off the answer,"—the quadratic equation or the square root of a circ—"

"X equals the opposite of b—plus or minus the square root of b squared minus four-a-c—all over 2a," Trent cut into Blaine's explanation, singing to the tune of Pop! Goes the Weasel. "I think that was the most useful thing I learned from that crazy woman."

Blaine doubled over laughing, hand grasping the back of his desk chair to ensure he wouldn't topple foreword onto the floor. "Have I told you I loved you today?"

"Only every day, dearest," Trent laughed back as he stood from his desk. "Hey, I'm gonna meet the guys down for dinner. You want us to save you a seat or will you coop yourself up here again and be an antisocial anemone?"

"A what? Trent,that made close to zero sense. Do you even know what an anemone is?"

"Choir director. Irrelevant," Trent answered, pointing to himself with a smirk. "So, food or no?"

Blaine looked back over at the collection of numbered problems he had waiting for him to have completed by tomorrows class. He could toss it aside for now; finish some when he came back; and then the rest during study hour in the morning. No doubt that the rest of the guys were probably on the same set of problems as he was, so it wasn't like he was worried about falling too far behind the others; however, he did kind of want to go to bed at a decent hour. He was starting to get a little restless during his sleep; every now and then he would wake up to Trent tossing a pillow at his head to "chill out with the sleep flailing" and also to "graciously return his pillow as he was forced to part with it."

Trent was a fun guy to room with, but he hadn't been the first. When he moved in his first week, he was eager to learn about the boy that he would be spending the first year of his Dalton Academy school year with. As freshmen, those who lived on campus were assigned to live in adjoined rooms (that is, two 2-person bedrooms adjoined by a bathroom). The administrators hoped that this would give the oncoming freshmen a means of easy socializing and a sense of community. He found himself sharing a room with a rather tall, bleach-blonde boy name Jeff Burke. Jeff was just about done settling in as he was already tacking up posters on his side of the room.

The first thing Blaine noticed about Jeff was his interest in dance, music, and really old animated TV shows. Although he had absolutely no idea what this _Aqua Teen Hunger Force_ was that was so boldly printed on a poster at the head of his bed, he was well aware of the title of the showtune playing from his iPod dock.

"'Hello Dolly!'? Talk about a throwback," Blaine had smiled at him while tossing one of his large duffle bags onto his empty bed. He was informed that his dominant clothing would consist of Dalton related attire and, although street clothes were allowed, the freshmen were informed they would find themselves unconsciously gravitating towards the blazer come November. So, with that in mind, he packed a few pair of jeans and t-shirts, but mostly opted for personal belongings.

"Hey, now, it's a classic," the blonde boy laughed, hoping down from his bed with a thud. Blaine instantly noticed how carefree this boy had seemed, much different than he was used to. For instance, his mother would never had let him stand on his bed; and if for any reason he did, he was to smooth out the comforter and pillows as soon as he left his perch. This boy, on the other hand, showed no interest in tidying his disheveled blankets. Another thing he noticed was the lack of TiMER implanted on his wrist.

"Name's Jeff," he smiled, pointing a finger to Blaine. "And before you ask, yes I enjoy musicals, and yes we will have a problem if you find my interests silly."

Blaine held his hands up in mock submission. "Julie Andrews was a goddess. I do not object to her supremacy. Please, spare me."

Jeff gave him a once over before the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. "I like you, you're going to be fun."

"Hey, Blaine. I got your bookbag," a tired voice called from the hallway. Blaine peeked a head out of the room and found his father looking lost down the hall of numerous doors.

"Over here, dad," he called out, waving a hand to catch his attention. Mr. Anderson turned and rested his eyes on his son, releasing a sigh of relief. "I didn't realize this place was so big," he commented, looking up at the high, sky-light paneled ceilings. A slight grin found its way onto Blaine's face as he watched his father. He never let himself be so curious around his mother; he was always just so stoned faced and feigning boredom just so she would stop trying to get him to participate in conversation. His dad meant well and was never strict enough to be uncomfortable to be around or distant enough to not have a one-on-one conversation with. He just preferred to do things on his own terms, or actually just without the constant nagging of his wife on his heels.

When his father entered is room, he took another glance down the hallway before turning around. He really didn't want to ask as his father seemed so relaxed just looking around the room, but he felt he needed to ask something. "So, is mom in the car, or-"

"Oh, she ran into Madam something or other," he answered quickly, looking over at a black and white poster gracing Jeff's side of the room. "You kids still like the Beatle's these days?"

"They are _music,_ sir," Jeff replied with a smile, flopping down on top of his bed. "Paul had the voice of angels."

"You're wrong, son. Lennon was the one to talk about," Mr. Anderson responded, much to Blaine's surprise. He never discussed much music or pop culture with his father. His taste in music developed from the versatile playlists coming from his father's study. Every day at the same time for two hours when he was young, his father would come home and turn on his music and just listen. Blaine would request to join him with the promise that he would let his father relax and not ask too many questions. Eventually, Blaine began to learn the songs enough to sing along with them; his dad didn't confine him from releasing his voice and instead began to ask Blaine what he wanted to sing along to today. Those days began to decrease as Blaine's mother found a brand new obsession with being a socialite and building a stepford reputation. Soon, blasting music wasn't becoming for a family of their standards and the time Blaine and his father spent together was much shorter than before. It had been years since they had just wasted time together, listening to old and new bands and scores. Maybe the days he went home to visit family, he would bring it up once again.

There was a comfortable quiet between the three men with Mr. Anderson giving a question about Jeff's interests and letting Jeff give a calm answer before looking around to the next poster in silence. The peace didn't last too long as a loud, high pitched voice echoed the hallways.

"Neil? Oh, for heaven's sake, where is my husband," came the words of a rather annoyed Gloria.

Blaine looked over to his father who seemed to not hear his wife, or perhaps didn't really seem too interested in calling out to her. Blaine could bet, however, that the case was most likely his latter theory. So, to prevent any later scornful words his father would have received, Blaine waved his mother down into his room. "Here, mom."

"Oh, goodness gracious, Neil. Marcia Patterson was downstairs and I couldn't very well discuss anything with her since your name is the one they are all familiar with," Gloria sounded, hands on her waist and purse swinging from his wrist. After a moment of silence from her husband, Gloria turned to Blaine with a bright smile. "Oh, sweetheart, I can't believe you're growing up so fast. You have all of your things, toiletries; did your father bring up your bag?"

Blaine gave her a brief nod as she embraced him tightly. "We're going to miss you so much, dear."

The departure wasn't as heavyhearted as it could have been. To put it quite frankly, Blaine was thrilled to be at Dalton and away from that lifeless house. After the third teary hug from his mother, and the assurance that 'yes, mom, I'll be fine', she turned out the door. Neil Anderson stopped on his way out of Blaine's new residence for the next 9 months and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He didn't speak right away, but when he did he gave his son just an inkling of a smile. "You'll be fine here, son. This place, it'll be good for you. I think you'll like it here."

Blaine nodded and stared up to his father, his once lively eyes bruised with age and sleeplessness. He grabbed his shirt sleeve before he got too far into the hallway—and into his mothers line of vision—and pulled him into a tight hug. His father, obviously surprised by the action, hesitated a moment but all but fell into the tight embrace with his son. "You don't have to be unhappy, you know," Blaine said quietly. Neil paused a moment before pulling away from the hug. He rested his tired gaze onto Blaine, giving a deep sigh and a nod. He knew he didn't, but he would. He always would, because he didn't know what else to do.

And with that, his parents ad left him alone in his dorm with his one of his three new roommates, a new environment, and a new life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others.

**A/N:** Kinda short, but still something I wanted to throw out cause it's been SOOO LONG. This isn't prepared, I just kinda go with it; however, I do have a LOT of idea jotted down so I know exactly what I want. Just fill-ins can be hard to figure out. ALSO, the bottom part regarding Nick and Jeff was NOT supposed to be in this chapter, I apologize. That was a mistake and I have no idea how or why I missed it. It has now been removed.

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

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><p>Freshmen year had gone by fast for Blaine Anderson, a little too fast. It was not something he was accustomed to. He was used to ungodly, early mornings listening to the droning of a teacher, followed by the consistent picking from his mother. His father kept to himself, as usual, which of course didn't help make time in the day speed up. Dalton Academy was something entirely different from what he was expecting. Dormitory life was the best thing Blaine could ask for. He and Jeff became close friends practically overnight, along with his suite-mates Trent and Brandon. There was a sense of comfort amongst the four boys; they shared interests, secrets, and weren't strangers to joining in the traditional Weekend-Nerf War-Battalion that had been a dorm tradition as long as anyone could remember to keep the sanity after homework and studying. Even better was the fact that the boys, sans Brandon, had all auditioned for—and successfully joined—the Warblers. They were now, in some sort of way, like a group of brothers where they could always find support, a needed laugh, and just a friend.<p>

Blaine expected the summers to go by just as tediously as ever before, but now with friends he could connect with he found himself being invited over to join in on pool parties, vacations, or just hanging out to play Halo or whatever came up. The best part about these frequent invites from friends was the lack of interaction with his mother; however, one could only go so long until your mother asks why you don't invite people over your own house. _It makes us look bad, like we don't attempt an effort to welcome company_._ Honestly, Blaine, everyone will think we are barbaric hermits or something of the sort. _That was her excuse, and he had no choice but to comply. He invited some of the Warblers over to spend the night one weekend in July and all day it was, _mom we're just gonna stay in the game room_, as well as, _we'll just order pizza this isn't a dinner party, _and finally, _okay, if you really want to make cookies that's fine._

It wasn't 5 minutes after his friends showed up, re-introduced themselves to the Andersons, and was directed to the game room by the help when his mother had to start.

"Oh, dear, why didn't you invite the Dawson boy," she asked, craning her neck to watch the line of boys disappear around a corner. It took everything in him to release a bellowing sigh at her premature questioning session before everyone even got settled in. Instead, he forced in a gentle breath and released it as calmly as he

"Because, I don't know him at all, mother. We had one class the beginning of the year and we sat on opposite sides of the room"

"His family is several generations of lawyers, sweetheart. It's a wonderful networking possibility that you have to consider. Perhaps you can intern at one of his father's firms. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"I'll consider it, mother, thank you," and he did consider it however long it took from him to turn away and walk around the corner. The odds weren't exactly in her favor.

Gloria Anderson hadn't personally been around teenage boys enough to know how they behaved; however, considering the backgrounds of the boys her son invited over, she expected something a bit more, well, kempt. She ensured Blaine that throwing a wonderful dinner party for his friends would be just the ticket to promise a good word to the boys' parents. She wanted her name tossed around as being a wonderful, conventional mother with second-to-none hospitality. She wanted to talk to people, and know people, and be invited by people, and become one of them. She wanted a positive, first-class label. Blaine had turned down her previous suggestions, but there was always chance for future arrangements. Maybe this way they could be more comfortable and more likely to return once again for a much more mature gathering. That didn't stop her from trying now.

Every so often she'd visit the room her son and his friends practically hid themselves away in. She ensured that the door was just cracked enough for there not to be complete privacy because who would allow their child to return to a house where there was complete lack of supervision and no care from the parents. She wanted a reputable name, not to be told off as an insensible mother. She was hoping they would be discussing future goals, current achievements, or even giving contact information so Blaine can be assured a decent internship opportunity. Honestly, she didn't understand why Blaine didn't invite the Dawson boy. Perhaps her son just needed to get to know him. You need to spend time with someone until you really decide your true feelings about them, after all. And she was sure that number was somewhere in her contact book.

Gloria made her way towards the kitchen and removed her book from a drawer from the island counter. She hummed a tune to herself as a proud smile crept onto her face. Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? She had just found the number and moved towards the phone when her husband rounded the corner. Ignoring his appearance, she held the book open with one hand and retrieved her cordless with the other. She thumbed the "TALK" button to receive a dial-tone before punching in the numbers. She hadn't gotten past the area code when Neil spoke up.

"Gloria, it's 10pm, who on earth are you calling now?"

"I was just seeing if the Dawson boy wanted to come to Blaine's party. I mean, it's silly not to, considering his family after all," she stated matter-of-factly, waving the receiver in her hand to emphasize his apparently 'obliviousness.'

"Gloria, put the phone down," he sighed, tired.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's a wonderful id-"

"Gloria, hang up the phone."

"It'll be fine."

"_GLORIA," _Neil bellowed, catching Gloria off guard as he grabbed for the phone. He positioned it back onto the charger and glanced down the hallway where the boys were hopefully still enjoying their night. "Gloria," he continued on a quieter note, "don't ruin this for him. This is the first time he has invited friends over in years on his own accord. This is his night, just let him be."

"I just want what's best for my son, Neil. Perhaps you don't care about his future, but _I do_," she hissed, emphasizing the last two points while poking his chest with an index finger.

"Don't you dare tell me that I don't care about my son. I just want him to go through life happy because of the choices he made for himself, not by following the expectations set by others." They stood at a stalemate, not wanting to continue arguing but not wanting to let the other win all the same. After a minute or two of uncomfortable silence, Neil shook his head and turned his back towards his wife. "I'm going to bed. Don't do anything stupid."

Gloria glanced to the phone and then again back to the fading silhouette of her husband. Perhaps this once she'll let it go, but next time it will be her say. She walked past the game room once again, noting they had finished their little impromptu singing session she had left earlier. Why they waste their time with singing, she'll never understand. By standing just along the opposite side of the door, she could just make out the conversations on the other side.

"Your mom wanted you to invite Bradley? Seriously?"

"She said it would be 'good networking,' Blaine laughed. Laughed! She thought it was a sensible idea.

"Did you tell her that he got expelled the last week of the school year for bringing hard drugs into the dorm?" Gloria practically had to stifle a gasp at the slander, how do they think they have the right to spread such rumors. The family had gone on a cruise and gathered their son early from school to meet reservations. Everyone knew that.

"No, I didn't. She wouldn't believe me anyway. She was all 'think of your future, Blaine,' and I don't think it would have sunk in- Hey could you throw me a Coke?" How would he think she wouldn't believe him? She's his mother. And he better not get any of that on the carpet.

"They even tried to cover up with a stupid cruise, got the whole club in on it. My parents know better; my uncle's a police chief and was the one that led him out of the dorm. Anyone who thinks otherwise is just really frigin stupid. Also, he's an absolute douchebag."

_Well, shit. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others.

**A/N:** Yeah, just kinda pulled this out of no where today. LoL.

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

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><p>The hot, sticky days of summer drifted by and Blaine's second year at Dalton had all but welcomed him home with a warm embrace. His mother hadn't been as overbearing when he had brought friends over as that first night, but he didn't really seem to care enough to question it. The only issues he came across were the constant text messages when he went out with his friends; mother had now moved from her "find a career path" campaign to a "find your soul mate" crusade instead. She always needed to know who was there, who had a TiMER, who was already taken. Frankly, half the time he forgot he had just a brand on his wrist. It was water resistant, heat resistant, and was just not very fragile enough to worry about breaking it. It hadn't indicated that his other half had gotten an implant, yet, which was absolutely fine with him. He finally had a chance to be what he wanted and to do what he loved without the constant nagging of improvement squawking over his shoulder. He was in no rush and he was hoping the other side of his string of fate wasn't either.<p>

Classes were easy to jump back into when fall came around, no matter how much the difficulty level of classes had increased. Blaine was just thankful how spread out his schedule was; seeing that anatomy, physics, and pre-calculus were overwhelming enough, he couldn't imagine having them crammed into a single day. His brain might have either exploded with such an intake of information, or possibly deflated from exhaustion.

The majority of the Warblers managed to get into rooms close enough to one another so exchanges of information, notes, and the easy access to a practice partner was never a problem. They were all in suite style rooms again with Blaine and Jeff living together and Trent with Thad living in the adjoining room. The boys were eager to get to the common room for practice; the familiar acoustics just weren't the same anywhere else.

Blaine slipped through the doors a bit early before the rest of the boys showed up. He slid a hand across the back of the worn, red couch; his fingertips becoming reacquainted with the stitched fabric. He peered around the room, a smile creeping onto his lips as he felt the warm sense of home. The furniture hadn't been moved out of place; the antique novels, yearbooks, and music books were still staggered along the shelves like they hadn't been touched. As he looked towards the window, he noticed a foreign plaque hanging along one of the previously bare wood walls. Right away he wished he hadn't.

There, framed along the wall as if on par with Monet's _Nimphee _or Van Gogh's _Starry Night_, was a life-size advertisement for the TiMER complete with the "True Love On A Schedule" tagline. He grinded his teeth and released a breath through his nose. "I can't catch a damn break."

"I hear you," interrupted an unfamiliar voice. A boy clad in the Dalton blue and red stood by the double doors of the common room, his hands shoved into his pockets. His hair was a bit on the longer side and wisped at the tips, although still met dress code as it hadn't yet reached the top of the collar. He gave a crooked, unsure smile before reaching out a hand to Blaine. "Nick. Nick Nichols."

"Blaine Anderson. And Nick Nichols? Wow, how much did your parents hate you," Blaine gave a teasing grin and he reached for his hand, hoping his first attempt at conversation with this boy didn't hit a soft spot. He was relieved when he laughed in return and gave a firm, yet friendly hand shake.

"It's a family name. I'm number five, so it's rather late in the game to lay a complaint on it," he shrugged, again with a smile. He looked back up to the advertisement that screamed too loud against the traditional walls of the common room. "It's kind of ailing, really. When you think about it, how much of it is really fate, you know? Maybe the devices match up to someone random and we just make it a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Blaine gapped at Nick's words, not having heard that idea being used to contradict the TiMER before. Was it really all just a rouse? People are capable of outrageous things, and when they are fed such an extravagant lie, it's no surprise to hear that they would follow it. He was about to give a response when the squeaks of leather turning a corner and the pollution of loud chatter filled the previous stillness of the room exploded through the doors.

"It's so _good_ to be home. Oh, hello, couch, I've missed you so," Thad cried as he fell backwards onto the red cushions, squeezing a pillow against his chest. "Oh, it feels like memories of cramming hours before a test and passing out for 10-minute breaks." His reacquaintance with the squishy cushions was cut short as a second pillow met his face.

"Thad, you're hogging the couch. Some of us also have memories to divulge in," Wes smirked, shoving Thad's legs off the couch surface to allow more sitting room.

"Yeah, but your memories usually involve ice cream, tears, and seasons of Grey's Anatomy," Thad laughed as he chucked the pillow back.

"And those are perfectly acceptable memories to have," Wes nodded matter-of-factly, chin held up in pride. His expression fell when his gaze fell onto the brand new eye-sore nailed into the wall. "What the hell is that doing in here?"

"Oh, I thought the room could use more color and controversy. I think it gives it a nice touch, don't you agree," Blaine asked as he side stepped next to the poster, hands placed elegantly like a show-girl displaying a brand new car.

"That's a good look for you, Blaine. Have you ever thought of working on game shows? You'd look dashing in sequin," Jeff laughed, an echo of chuckles and cat calls following soon after by the rest of the Warblers. "That aside, who's your shadow?" Jeff gave a slight nod to the boy standing off to the side, hands uncomfortably hidden in his pockets.

"Nick," he croaked out, raising a fist to his mouth to clear his throat. "Nick. Nick Nichols."

"Dude, awesome name" John smiled as he pointed over at Nick. "I like it."

"I agree, I like it, too," Jeff smiled warmly at him, his head tilted at a small angle. "So, Nick Nichols. What brings you here? Is this your first year?"

"It is my first year at Dalton, yes; but, I transferred from Glendale Oaks Academy in Pennsylvania. My father was offered a business transition and we were brought over to Ohio. And, well, here I am," he grinned, arms fanned out to present his attendance. "And the reasons I'm here is that I heard you had a well-established show choir and I was wondering when auditions were taking place. I was in a show choir back at Glendale, but we never really went into competitions. We were just a private choir for a private school."

The boys looked around the room at each other, some giving shrugs of uncertainty or expressions of curiosity. "Well," started Wes," auditions and sign-ups for art clubs and groups are actually towards the end of the week-"

"However, if you're good enough, we can look into it as a 'transition' from one previous group to the next as says in Amendment D, Section 12 of the Warbler handbook, right Wes," Jeff asked, head still tilted towards his right shoulder as he looked at the new boy in front of him with fascination. He smiled wider as he noted a light blush shading Nick's pale cheeks.

Wes followed the quiet exchange between the Junior Warbler and the newcomer and sighed, seeing the 'why not?' shrug by Blaine out of the corner of his eye. "Seeing as our active brother Jeff is currently smitten," he began, causing a few laughs and a deeper blush on Nick's cheeks, "as long as the current members are all in agreement, we will listen to your audition and follow suit with a decision. I hope you have something prepared."

"Oh, I do. And I was hoping you would come in to accompany me if you know it," Nick stammered, hands now out of his pockets.

"If we know the arrangement off hand," Blaine chuckled. "What's the song?"

"Do you know _Uptown Girl_?"

Blaine had been watching his roommate and the newbie interact the past few weeks after Nick's successful and reputable Warbler audition. It began innocent enough, with quick glances and weak smiles. There were exchanges of small talk with Nick being highly interested in Jeff's hobbies and Jeff trying hard to find ways to make Nick laugh. They were usually the first to arrive in the common room with Jeff's shoes on the floor before the couch and his thighs pulled to his chest and chin atop his knees. And then there was Nick who sat with his back barely grazing the back of the couch and legs crossed at the knee. After practice or weekly meetings, they were usually the first or last to leave, depending on if plans were made prior that morning. Chatter soon evolved into whispers and flirty touches and hand holding; it wasn't a month or so later when they were just officially considered a couple even if there was no vocal declaration.

What Blaine didn't understand is why they fell for each other and why they continued to thrive on their newfound relationship. They were practically the complete opposite of each other, or at least more opposite than one could bear to handle putting up with. Jeff liked throw back cartoons, Nick enjoyed British humor. Jeff dived into video games whereas Nick couldn't even figure out the buttons half the time. Jeff would run head on into a Nerf battle with no fear of consequences while Nick would hide behind a doorframe or chair as long as he could before running to a new hiding place. For so many years the idea of soul mates and perfect matches was shoved down his throat to the point of congestion. And yet, these boys defied what everyone out there was preaching. One night in October after Jeff came home from a movie night—and a kiss from Nick—Blaine couldn't help but ask him what he had been curious about since the start of their relationship.

"Hey, Jeff," Blaine spoke, setting the book he was reading down onto the bedspread. "Hmm," was Jeff's response and he moved to hang up his blazer up into his closet.

"I don't mean to pry, but I'm just curious about something." Jeff toed his way out of his shoes and jumped up onto his bed, settling down into a sit on the still shifting mattress. "Shoot."

"How- I mean why-," Blaine started, completely off guard at how difficult this conversation actually was to begin. After a moment of quiet and a confused—yet curious—stare by Jeff, he began again. "You and Nick don't have TiMERs, yet you still decided to be in a relationship."

Jeff leaned against the mahogany headboard of his bed, pulling a pillow onto his lap. He aimlessly began to play with a corner, biting his lip before leaning his head back. "You know, Blaine, not all things are determined by fate. Sometimes you just have to let things happen, to just go with what makes you feel right for you at this point in time, you know."

Blaine squinted his eyes in thought, trying to make sense of the information Jeff was giving him. He shook his head, "I just don't understand. What's the point of even trying a relationship with the possibility of you not being each other's soul mates?"

"Because we enjoy each others' company. We understand the chances of us not ending up together, but for now we're not concerned about that."

Blaine continued to stare at his friend. Obviously, this was a bit of a sore spot and perhaps something he had discussed on numerous occasions due to his exhausted expression. "Hey, I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes. I'm not trying to be pushy; I'm just trying to make sense of a situation I don't quite understand."

"I know you are," Jeff smiled lightly to Blaine before peering down to his embraced pillow. "This is the chance for us to live, Blaine; a chance for us to have fun and be happy. We're not young for very long, and I don't want to live it just waiting around for someone to come find me. I really like Nick, Blaine. And I just want to hold on to that feeling as long as I can."

After that they discussed a few more things, like why Nick couldn't tell his parents about Jeff as to not disappoint them for a possible lack of a 5th generation to the family line. And how Jeff's parents were so excited about him finding somebody that he truly cares about. And how he was wanting to bring Nick home with him on Thanksgiving to meet his family, but Nick says his parents would find it strange that he won't come home for a holiday. He went to bed with the lingering ghost of Jeff's words about not wanting to wait around for some prince to swoop him up into happiness; about how he pretty much would rather discover it for himself on his time right now.

Waiting around for that perfect someone as your whole life goes by.

Is it even worth it?


	7. Chapter 7

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others.

**A/N:** Just felt like writing. Sorry for the huge delay, I'm not always feeling it, you know?

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

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><p>The clamoring of warm bodies, slamming of metal lockers, and the overbearing chatter of teenagers filled the hallways of McKinley High School. The cheerleaders—in their uniforms as always—crowded together besides the ladies restroom, labeling each girl that passed as either an eye-sore or an embarrassment to nature. Kurt Hummel rolled his eyes at the stares he received while walking past the red-and-white crowd and through the doors embellished with a stick figure wearing a dress. Honestly, this was this third year here at McKinley, they shouldn't be surprised by this by now. Besides, the girls' bathroom never smelled like sweat or like you were being drowned in cologne; also, it was safer, since he was less likely to be thrown into a wall or shoved headfirst into a toilet.<p>

Kurt glided over towards the porcelain sink, dropping his satchel onto the horrible pattern of tile on the floor. He reached out to the faucet and twisted the "cold water" knob before removing a soft, white handkerchief from his breast pocket. He slipped the cloth under the faucet quickly and twisted out any access water, keeping the cloth just damp enough. With a sigh from his nose, he placed it on the back of his neck and on his warm cheeks. He hated how his was going to alter his earlier moisturizing routine, but that's what travel-size emergency tubes were for; and yes, he did keep them with him at all times.

Kurt was worried. Glee Club had been cancelled for today. Mr. Schuster had called in sick for the day, which really mean he was just as confused as everyone else about Sectionals and the song list. Everyone decided he spent the entire day researching the opponents and possible song choices that would give them a leg-up on the competition. Normally, this would have been fine, except Finn may have brought it up with Puck in class, which was overheard by Azimio and Karofsky, who now apparently would be waiting by his car to ensure Kurt was to go home smelling of rotted garbage and the old cat food the lady down the street keeps throwing into the school dumpster. When caught doing this by the custodian, she claimed it was because she always saw cats roaming around this particular trash receptacle and she wanted to ensure they got a healthy meal instead of left over cafeteria food. Either way, it still didn't make Kurt too keen on wearing it.

"Hey, you," Kurt heard from the doorway. The tenseness in his body was relieved when he noticed it was Mercedes slipping through the swinging doorway. "What are you doing in here, and why do you look so freaked out," she asked, wrinkling her nose as she noticed the redness in his cheeks.

Kurt smiled to his friend and shook his head, "Just hiding from some unwanted company that's apparently waiting for me outside. I figured if I waited them out long enough, they'd give up for the day."

"Come here, boy," Mercedes chuckled as she strode up to him, her numerous gold bangles clanking together with each step. Kurt always enjoyed Mercedes style as much as his own. They were not afraid to be daring in their choice of fashion statements. Like today, she was sporting a hot pick fedora and an equally pink-patterned, dolman sleeve top. Shiny blank skinnys and suede, zipper boots made the ensemble complete, besides of course her random pieces of yellow gold accessories. For anyone else, Kurt would've probably looked twice and wished they had thought just about as much as whether or not they should walk out of the door like that; however, Mercedes had this air about her that Kurt admired. And she wore that outfit with just as much confidence that just made it seem, well, right.

Mercedes smoothed out the shoulder of his white, straight jacket inspired coat (another reason why he wasn't too willing to welcome the bottom of a dumpster) and tapped him on the nose. "You know, I think Finn is still roaming around here somewhere as well as Sam and Puck. Along with my fierceness, we can provide a pretty decent escort system out of here if you want.

Kurt considered it for a moment as he hugged himself tight; the sole of a boot squeaking against the tile as he shifted his weight. He began to chew on the inside of his cheek until he saw the look his friend gave him; Mercedes' dad was a dentist, and she kind of had this thing with using your teeth for things other than chewing food. Then again, he should know better anyway, but it was a habit he couldn't get rid of as easily as he had hoped.

"Actually, I think I need to learn to start dealing with this myself," Kurt answered. Mercedes smiled weakly, which wasn't exactly encouraging. "Unless you feel like coming with me anyways; I was thinking of redecorating my room and I was hoping for some input from an equally, fashionably intelligent individual," Kurt quickly added with a smile.

"Oh, you know I'd love to, but I promised my mom I'd get rid of some things for the clothing drive she's working on at our Church. She told me I had to get rid of at least 10 things in my closet, at the least. And then she's making me and dad go through the garage right after. Sorry, boo, I would if I could." Kurt nodded in reply as he picked his satchel up from the ground. "It's okay, I'll figure something out. That is, as long as the Neanderthals aren't waiting around my car with their wooden clubs and ignorance."

Mercedes snorted, "They're lovely boys, aren't they?"

"Oh, absolutely charming. I don't even know why they would bother even getting a TiMER to begin with."

"I bet none of them will go off," Mercedes giggled to herself as she followed Kurt towards the ladies' room door.

"That's because when they walked into the clinic, the Matchmakers took one look at them and decided to freeze each of their TiMERs just to make sure no poor soul will ever be subjected to that."

They left the restroom laughing loudly at each other's comments, and arm resting comfortably around one another's' waists. There were a lot of things that could bring Kurt own, but these small exchanges between himself and his closest friend always lifted his spirits. Even though it was a joke, he silently hoped that neither of them would have the privilege of their TiMER going off to indicate that their true love was just within their grasp. How do they deserve to find their true love first over him?

* * *

><p>The black Escalade smoothly turned the corner onto Market Drive, windshield wipers swiping briskly to remove the steady flow of water running down the glass. Behind the wheel sat a fairly content Kurt Hummel despite having to drive in this somewhat unpleasurable weather. It looked like the threat of rain scared the bullies away from his car and he was able to leave McKinley in peace. With time to spare that Glee Club would have otherwise occupied, Kurt decided to take a short cruise through downtown. He hadn't been in quite a while and he was curious if any more new little thrift shops had popped up; they were always fun to browse in on an otherwise stressful day. Nearing the next block, he noticed a new coffee shop that he had never seen before; the Lima Bean. Kurt lingered at the stop sign a bit longer than he usually would have, staring at the sign of the little café. A rather impatient Toyota behind him forced him to make up his mind a bit sooner, and thus he pulled into an empty spot just a few spaces from the door. It had been a while since he found a place that made decent mochas, and he needed a usual coffee shop to frequent on days just like this.<p>

Kurt shook moisture from his umbrella just outside the Lima Bean door, taking shelter underneath the small awning. Adjusting his black top hat and smoothing the front of his jacket, he stepped through the door and inspected his new find. As soon as he stepped through the door, the sweet smell of mocha and the strong scent of uncrushed coffee beans filled his nose and instantly he know he had found the perfect place. It was rather large compared to your corner run in/run out coffee shop, but then again the number of teenagers with books littered all over the tops of wooden, round tables quickly made one understand why. It looked like this had turned into the spot to go after school to work on homework paired with a small latte or a hot tea. The music was relaxing: the right compilation of folk bands, slow pop, and jazz. There were a decent number of customers in line already, which hopefully meant that their coffee blend was at least decent enough to bring in a crowd. Encased by the warm woodwork, the strong pillars, and the comfortable atmosphere, Kurt had ultimately decided that this would surely do.

When he reached closer to the cash wrap, he noted the abundant sweets behind the glass case (calories, Kurt, calories), numerous bags of take-home coffee, reusable mugs and cups, and cute plush animals on small, metal shelving units next to the counters. His eyes darted back to the cake pops and frosted cookies he had scanned earlier and bit his lip. _Coffee first, cookie another day_, he decided.

Kurt moved off to the side of the counter after giving his order, being courteous to the customers behind him in line. The baristas here was even pleasant, which is always nice when an early morning coffee is in order. He'd have to remember that.

He continued to peer around the shop, finding new posters and people with each turn of the head. It wasn't until a final sweep to his left that his eyes settled onto a blazer clad boy standing just a few inches away responding to what looked like a text on his cell phone.

Kurt studied him out of the corner of his eye, trying his best not to give himself away. He could tell he was on the shorter side, and his hunched over stance while he texted away wasn't helping his posture at all. He couldn't make out the color of his eyes, but he could definitely make out the mile long lashes hovering over his cheeks as he continued to peer downward. The blazer he wore indicated some kind of private school,but not one he recognized. He hoped that didn't mean be was overly prudish or conventional, then again he wasn't very familiar with the private school boy lifestyle outside of coming-of-age movies or prime teenage TV. He nearly laughed as he pictured this boy talking like Ryan Phillipe's character in _Cruel Intentions_; somehow he could just tell that would absolutely not fit him at all. Kurt's final track followed down to his fingers and then to the small LED strip glowing green on his wrist. _Of course_, he thought with the shake of the head, _he's one of those._

Strangely enough, that little glowing interference didn't sway his interest. Feeling uncharacteristically courageous today, as well as highly curious, Kurt decided to make an attempt at small talk with this absolutely stunning boy. Placing his gloved hands behind his back, Kurt rocked a bit on the balls of his feet as he looked over to the curious stranger. "Have you been waiting long," he asked as he nodded to the boy's wrist.

The boy jumped at Kurt's voice, nearly dropping his phone in surprise. He turned toward Kurt, placing his cell into the pocket of his blazer as he did.

Their eyes locked, and the world stopped.

A feed of endorphins and fireworks and what Kurt could swear was something highly resembling fairy dust flew wildly through Kurt's veins and met his brain in a wave of every color of the spectrum including ones he knew did not even exist. He was on fire, but at the same time it felt perfect. At least, that's that Kurt would tell you if you asked him how it felt when those breath-taking hazel eyes caught his own in the most compelling gaze he had ever experienced in his life.

It took a moment or two for Kurt to compose himself. As he toyed with the Velcro straps on his leather, fingerless gloves, he silently prayed the boy didn't find his reaction as obviously embarrassing as he did. Strangely enough, he was met with the most unexpected response.

"Oh? Oh no, not really. It usually takes a few minutes."

Kurt stared at him, absolutely befuddled by his reply. When he caught on to his confusion, Kurt lifted his gloved hand to hide his highly amused grin. The poor boy looked absolutely dumbstruck and just as confused as Kurt had been earlier as he let escape a small giggle. "No, no, no. I meant your little 'person' finder." When the boy still looked as if Kurt just asked him to name the capital of Liechtenstein (Vaduz, by the way), he rolled his eyes and pointed to the glowing green strip implanted on his left wrist. "I meant your TiMER."

"Oh," was the response as he looked down to his wrist, seeming like he was still trying to piece Kurt's words together. "OH! Oh, yeah, I'm sorry. I'm just-wow. I don't know where my head was just now. I- I mean-," the boy cleared his throat and wiped his palms onto his blazers which Kurt assumed was a nervous reaction, and an absolutely adorable one. "I guess I have, but I haven't really been paying much attention to it. I mean, they haven't gotten theirs, so waiting around for it to just go off seems kind of pointless."

Well, that wasn't the answer Kurt was expecting at all. Then again, he wasn't quite sure what he anticipating this particular boy to say to begin with; however, being completely neutral about the whole ordeal seemed a bit different. After all, he had a TiMER, so he must have had some reason behind getting it, right? All of the people he knew who have had the implant were always so eager; they checked every day, every hour, every minute to see if maybe they had missed the subtle beeping of the time their true love will meet them. What made this boy any different?

"So, when did you get branded," Kurt smiled gently with a tilt of the head.

The boy slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked a bit on the balls of his feet, not unlike Kurt earlier. "Oh, thirteen."

Kurt blinked a few times at the boy's response. "Wow, you really wasted no time. Strange, though, since you don't seem to care to much about the whole soul mate thing," he continued, waving his hand around the words "soul mate."

The boy shook his head quickly at Kurt's statement. "It was actually my mother's idea. She has this obsession with new fads and the "everyone has one" syndrome. All of the neighbors had their kids get the implant as soon as they were legal and my mother wasted absolutely no time. Appearances, you know," he gave Kurt a weak grin. This boy just kept getting more confusing every time he opened his mouth. His mother seemed very upscale, very high class. Or maybe she just really wanted to act like she was. And it looked like he really didn't care one way or another, or at least, not as much as his mother. Definitely not the _Cruel Intentions_ type. Maybe, it was still early.

"Medium drip. Non-fat mocha," the barista called out from behind the counter. The boy reached out for the first Styrofoam cup she placed before him and stared at the writing on the label. "Oh, um, I think this is yours. Mocha?"

"Oh, yes, that's mine," Kurt answered rather nervously, reaching quickly over to retrieve it. As the cup slid into his grasp he felt the tips of fingers brush against his own, the touch causing him to nearly drop the drink all over the floor, which would have been absolutely disastrous single there would no doubt be splatter and this was a white coat. Also, embarrassing. The boy seemed as awkward about it as well seeing as he pulled his hand back as soon as he handed over the drink. "If you, um," he began after a moment, "if you're not in a hurry, I have nowhere else to be pretty soon and I was wondering if-"

"-I wanted to hang out here for a while and chat," Kurt finished his question for him with a warm smile. The boy seemed relieved at Kurt's decision to interject into his request.

They chose one of the empty, round tables toward the back of the shop and took a seat opposite one another. The boy still seemed kind of nervous as he had yet to take a sip of his drink and was gripping his cup like a vice with his thumbs tapping on the lip of the lid.

Kurt, himself, sat upright with his own hands clenched around the base of the cup; however, he found himself a bit too nervous to even move his fingers in an anxious gesture. It was strange, they had just engaged in conversation and it was like they forgot how to talk all over again. Kurt decided, once again, to be the hero and reinitialize the chat.

"It's funny. When I first saw you I imagine you as one of _those_ breeds. Apparently I was mistaken."

A smirk crept onto the lips of the boy across from Kurt. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. A high strung pup with a pedigree," Kurt smirked himself, taking a sip of his slowly cooling mocha.

The boy released a loud laugh before resting his lips onto his knuckled, his elbow leaning onto the table. He took a glance around the before turning back to Kurt. He seemed a bit too concerned of the attention he was giving off to the people around him, even if no one was paying attention. "Well, I guess you'd be kind of right."

"Don't worry; you're not nearly as bad as I thought you'd be. I've stuck my nose up at more horribly ostentatious things, like that blazer."

"Oh, you're sassy," the boy laughed in response, leaning back against the chair into a more relaxed pose. "And I'll have you know, I love the blazer. I think it looks dashing," he smirked himself, thumbs grazing underneath his lapel as he adjusted the front of his blue blazer, piped with read trim.

"Well, dashing, am I going to have to ask you for your name or am I required to sit on a boat with you until a crab whispers it to me," Kurt asked, keeping his eyes down onto his cup as he gently swished around the contents.

The stranger smiled warmly as he lifted his hand across the table to greet Kurt. "Blaine. Blaine Anderson."


	8. Chapter 8

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others.

**A/N:** I'm alive. And I'm trying. I'm so sorry.

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

* * *

><p>The Lima Bean was quickly turning into Kurt's most favorite discovery yet, especially the dashing boy who came with it. At first, it was just a few convenient run-ins—mostly on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Kurt only happened to realize the pattern due to his very frequent visits to the coffee shops. It was obviously due to his developing preference for how perfectly they steamed their milk to the right temperature and absolutely not because of the increasing chance of catching a glimpse of those adorable, hazel eyes. Well, okay, maybe that was a small factor to his recurrent visits after Glee Club; but, in his defense, they did make a perfect latte.<p>

But it was Tuesdays and Thursdays that regularly found Kurt sitting across from that gelled hair and awful blazer, and, more importantly, that smile that lit up the room. He couldn't believe how comfortable he was around this boy; how he so easily could share his thoughts and stories. They would find themselves in topics of movies, and music, and fashion. Kurt allowed himself to talk of his departed mother, only to be surprised at the warm, comforting hand that rested on top of his. All at once, his feelings of remorse just seemed to vanish. It was as if this boy, this strange boy he ran into at this very coffee shop, could take the hurt and just replace it with so much warmth.

Soon enough, his frequent rendezvous had been brought to the attention of one Mercedes Jones. The slight skip down the hallways, the constant smile on his lips, and the recurrent "need to leave as soon as possible,"—especially on those two specific weekdays—all but gave him away. Well, actually, those things did give him away, very much so. One day, she cornered him in the choir room before he could escape into his getaway car; her arms were crossed over her chest with a stare as if ready to pounce.

"Yes, Mercedes," Kurt asked, his satchel pulled up to his chest as if it would protect him from any verbal lashings he was about to become victim to.

"You've been skipping out on me, Kurt. I've offered to come over and look at those swatches; I've invited you over several times just to hang out. At first, I figured you were just busy; but, when I said there was a sale at Macy's, and you said you had '_better things to do_,' I knew something wasn't right. Spill, Kurt; I know something's up," she stated ferociously, arms still locked in place across her chest.

Kurt held his ground, pondering some reasonable excuse he could just throw out that wouldn't require endless questioning on her half. Something about his dad maybe? No, he couldn't think of anything. Defeated, Kurt let out a drawn out sigh and let his satchel drop to hang by his ankles. "Okay, okay fine. So, remember that day I first asked you to come over to help redecorate my room and you were busy and, well, I ended up going downtown and found this coffee shop and there was this boy waiting in line and-," he said quickly within one breath.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on; a boy, Kurt," Mercedes asked, a sly smile growing on her lips. "What about this boy?"

"Just someone I ran into at the coffee shop, I don't know," he shrugged, moving his gaze down towards the floor. "I mean, he was nice and we've run into each other a few more times and kind of created this friendship based on musicals and lattes."

"Does he—I mean—is he gay, too, or—," Mercedes asked curiously to her friend.

Kurt's head shot up quickly as he took a small step back toward the wall, obviously unprepared for the question. "'Cedes!"

"Well, come on, I'm just looking out for you to make sure you're not chasing boys that aren't an option!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're gay, hun, and if he's not into you—well," Mercedes moved to sit down on a nearby plastic chair, leaning onto the back rest, "do I have to remind you of the Finn fiasco?"

"Ugh, please, I never want that in my memory again, ever," Kurt responded, waving a free hand in the air as if trying to physically erase it from his mind. Afterwards, his arm dropped lifelessly to his side as he thought about Mercedes' original question "I don't know. Nowadays, I don't even think it matters. With this stupid TiMER crap, people are beginning to lose sight of what they want and who they are."

Mercedes tilted her head, a look of concern growing on her face, "What do you mean, Kurt?"

He paused, twisting the strap in his hands while trying to find his words. He wasn't sure what he meant, not really. It was all of these pathetic hopes he was building in his mind. Blaine and gay; they were two words that he truly wish would be associated, but he didn't want to bet on it. That awful "fate watch" on his wrist didn't help much at all. He felt his mouth growing dry and swiped the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. He knew his friend was awaiting an answer, and he wasn't all too sure what to say. "I still don't know what to expect from him."

"Hey," Mercedes smiled genuinely as she got up from her seat, hands placed on either side of his pale cheeks. "I think if he's willing to spend as much time with you as he has been lately, there's obviously something there right?"

Kurt shrugged, eyes flickering from her own and then back again to the floor. "Iono," he mumbled.

The darker girl released a laugh and moved to rub her friends shoulder, "It'll be fine, boo. Now, I'm gonna walk you to your car so you can tell me about this fine boy."

Kurt blinked as he was shoved towards the door, nearly stumbling over his boots, "How do you know he's _fine_?"

"Because I know if my boy is into him, he has _got_ to be a stud muffin."

* * *

><p>A sleek, black Navigator slipped neatly between two white lines in a downtown, open lot. Kurt had circled the block at least twice in an unsuccessful attempt at finding a parallel parking spot closer to the coffee shop door. He hastily flung open the driver's side door, catching it quickly as it nearly dinged the mirror of a neighbor car. That was all he needed now, an angry stranger and a conversation with his disappointed father about responsibility and the sudden increase on their car insurance. Kurt scrambled out of his door with a little too much vigor, nearly catching his foot on the floor mat on the way down. After grabbing his bag and closing his door, he leaned against his vehicle and caught his breath. Once, twice, until he felt composed. Ever since that conversation with Mercedes, he just felt so off and crammed so full of these thoughts that he really didn't care to dwell on. Just as he felt that he could effortlessly put one foot in front of the other, he felt a slight gust to his left as a figure raced past him; a blue figure with red piping.<p>

"Blaine," Kurt called, slipping out from between his car wall hiding spot.

Kurt swore he saw gravel cloud kick up into the air as the boy quickly halted, spinning on his heel towards the call that made him stop, "Kurt? Oh, wow, I'm sorry. I was held up and I thought you'd decided that I was going to be a no-show and leave-"

A loose fist hid Kurt's smile as he held his fingers to his lips. The movement must have thrown Blaine off of his apology as he was looking to Kurt, now with a very confused and amused look. "Why are you laughing?"

"Well, for one, we never really made an oath about meeting up here," Kurt smirked, rocking on his heels.

Blaine took a moment before he tilted his head in that all too familiar way that Kurt knew; a wide smile on his face. "I always thought it of more as a silent pact."

A heavy pulse in Kurt's throat nearly made him think his heart had climbed its way up and settled there. This was just one of those things that Mercedes had mentioned that made him wish so badly that Blaine was for him. _For him?_ No, that's just outrageous, why would Blaine even-

The boy in the blazer reached out a crooked arm as if to offer it to Kurt, his inviting smile all too tempting. The duo trotted through the front doors of the welcoming coffee shop, the smell of roasted coffee beans feeling all too like a second home. While ordering in his coffee, Kurt noticed the uneasy sway of the boy beside him. Thanking the barista for her time, and denying the receipt, he turned towards his friend who seemed so much more fidgety than usual. In fact, he never remembered him ever being fidgety; Blaine was just so relaxed all the time, Kurt never imagined that he had a worrying bone in his body.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or am I going to be subjected to people thinking that I'm with a crazy since you won't stop wringing your hands together," Kurt chuckled quietly, adjusting the strap of his satchel against his shoulder.

Blaine glanced down to his worrying hands, now aware of his own actions, and shoved them into his pockets. "Sorry, it's just-there's something important I wanted you to know today, which is why I was so worried that I had missed you."

Kurt froze, but still attempted to contort his face into something resembling a curious fixture. Something to tell him? There's no way… "What is it Blaine?"

"I-oh, thank you," he began, only to be interrupted by the barista calling his name from behind the counter. Kurt's own followed soon after.

As they made their way over to their usual spot, which luckily seemed to be devoid of any people around this hour, Blaine slid into a creaky, wooden chair. After a few spats over who would get the creaky chair, and Kurt's constant offer to grab another one from a different table, Blaine eventually won. He said that he enjoyed the little character it gave the chair, saying that it made him wonder how many different stories this particular chair held that made it so worn in. Also, he said that Kurt always looked too pristine to sit in a chair that creaked, which made him laugh much longer than he felt he should have. But now, watching him fidget, he felt that this chair was about to be invited to another story.

"Kurt, I don't think I'm going to be able to meet up with you anymore."

Well, that was not what he was expecting. Wait, what?

Kurt opened his mouth, attempting to say anything—a noise at least—but he was just popping his lips like a guppy gasping for air. No more laughing over the hideous fashion choices of the people who walked into the shop. No more making up background stories for the elderly couple that sat quietly in the corner every day, like how he was a lion tamer in a circus and she was the acrobat he fell hopelessly in love with. No more coming home with an aching belly after laughing so hard at the ridiculous jokes Blaine tries so hard to make. No more hideous blazer and gelled hair. No more Blaine.

Was it something he did? Maybe he insulted him somehow, and this was just his way of saying he felt uncomfortable. Maybe Kurt made him uncomfortable. Maybe he found out that he enjoyed the company of boys in a more romantic way over girls. Maybe he was freaked out and he just didn't want to be around him anymore. Stupid Kurt, you should have known better than to expect anything else. He's too attractive, and he's too perfect.

The seconds felt like hours, years, before Blaine's eyes suddenly grew as wide as golf balls. He all but leapt across the small, circle table at Kurt's hands and grasped them tightly."Wait, Kurt, oh my gosh. I meant on Tuesdays. And I didn't mean ever, I meant just Tuesdays at the Lima Bean. Just here," Blaine pulled his hands to cup his face as he groaned into them. "That sounded so much more depressing than it really was." Blaine peaked through a split between his middle and index fingers, looking at the boy across from his who looked a bit more pale than usual. "I'm sorry."

"No, no it's okay. You're not very good at breaking news, I take it," Kurt smiled weakly through a nervous laugh, attempting a sip of coffee to soak his dry throat. Unfortunately, the hot liquid did all but help.

Blaine hesitated a laugh after taking a sip of his own drink, "No, no I guess not."

Kurt tapped his fingers on his Styrofoam cup, watching his companion on the other side of the table. "So, are you going to tell me why-"

"Oh! Sorry. Wow, I am just not myself today," Blaine shook his head, shifted his chair a little closer. "We added in another hour of rehearsal and it kind of overlaps our usual Tuesday meet-up. You can blame the Warblers if our friendship is dismantled due to our apparent need to win a showchoir competition. Go figure, right?"

And he was back. Kurt smiled at the subtle joke and more relaxed demure his friend had begun to show once again. Seeing Blaine stressed out, even over something so minor, seemed to make him uneasy. It reminded him of watching an action film that his father, or now Finn, would usually choose on their designated family movie night. Just watching the main character hanging desperately to life on the edge of a cliff, or the clawing at the rails of a bridge, made every inch of him shiver. He would begin to imagine himself in that position, and how nervous he would be in the pit of his stomach. Seeing Blaine feel so uncertain brought back that feeling, and he didn't like it at all.

Kurt was just about to let his words escape through his lips, the option that they didn't have to limit themselves to this coffee shop. They could have new moments, new experiences. A smile grew onto his face as the first letter was about to climb up his throat, but it was cut short. The gentle ringing of a TiMER filled the now silent Lima Bean. A young man in his twenties had stood by the circle of plush chairs, glancing down at a woman a few years his senior reading a lengthy novel. Kurt held his breath and watched, prepared for the disappointment and downfall that would surely be the event unfolding before him. A few hands clapped slowly, unsure of what to make of the situation.

This is exactly one of the reasons why this dreadful TiMER was awful; it forced you into situations that you are absolutely uncomfortable with and unprepared for. Especially this pair, who may be considered nontraditional in the standards of relationships. Kurt half expected the boy to run away out the door from the woman who may be old enough to know his mother from a pottery class. He expected him to go home and reevaluate his choices, as what most people in his situation would do. About how those pretty little college girls that he always seemed to chase weren't for him, as he probably would have hoped. Kurt was just about to whisper a few of these thoughts to Blaine, when the young man held out his hand in introduction to the older woman with a smile. The claps grew louder as he joined her on the couch, the elderly couple in the back corner joining in all too eagerly.

Blaine did not alienate himself from the discovery of love and clapped along with the rest, a gentle smile on his face. "Really not into it, are you," Blaine asked as he placed his hands back round his coffee cup, the clapping fading away.

"It's against everything I stand for."

"Alright, alright. Like I said, I'm not that big into it either, but it's still interesting seeing it happen right in front of you," Blaine shrugged. With a final sip of his coffee, he lifted his right arm up with the hopes that gravity would pull down his sleeve to reveal his watch. With a quick glance at the face, he looked up to Kurt with an apologetic gaze. "Hey, I gotta get going. Sorry it was a short day today."

"You seem to be sorry about a lot of things today," Kurt replied, biting the inside of his cheek again.

"I'll see you soon, I promise," Blaine chuckled, walking over to pat Kurt on the shoulder. "We still have Thursday."

Kurt watched as the blazer slipped through the Lima Bean door and onto streets of downtown. "Yes, we do," he sighed, taking another drink of his mocha. His eyes moved towards the creaky chair that sat empty, and somber without a person to hold. All at once he started thinking about how he should have spoken up sooner about spending time outside of this place. At the same time, he cursed the TiMER for ruining the right moment. Blaine was right about this worn in chair seeing so many stories, he was just hoping that it wouldn't begin to see the end of this one.


	9. Chapter 9

**Full Summary**: The creation of a new digital device, the TiMER, is able to tell a person the exact date and time they will meet their soul mate. Without worrying about the constant search of looking and waiting for that perfect someone, some welcomed the new technology with open arms, while others were absolutely against the idea and refused to be apart of the craze. Then there are those who didn't have a choice and instead followed in the best interest of others.

**A/N:** Holy balls, more than 1 chapter in one month? The end times are near. This one may be considered more of a filler, but still important in my opinion.

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of the Glee or TiMER universe. All characters and related material are copyright to their original creators respectfully.

* * *

><p>Fate was surely surrendering itself briskly from Kurt's side. Shortly after learning of his long lost Tuesday afternoons with one Blaine Anderson, he found himself having to forfeit the only other day of the week he had left to share with his new friend. Due to Regionals being so close, Mr. Schuester decided to extend the New Directions practice schedule; this meant no more free Thursdays. His unfortunate announcement was met with disappointment, but Blaine understood. There was nothing they could do now, but perhaps they could pick up where they had left off between the Regionals-Nationals lull.<p>

The past two weeks were driving Kurt crazy; it was as if his entire schedule had flung itself into the clouds of his mind and rained down in a scattered storm. He felt off course and confused, and a bit preoccupied as well. Soon enough, Kurt began to curse himself for never offering to share his number with Blaine. It was a simple solution to his problem, but he was always too worried about how Blaine would react. Was he aware that Kurt wasn't one of the "normal" boys he probably hung around with; and if he wasn't, how would he take it once he found out? Regardless, he wished he had just mentioned getting together on the weekends with friends, or just anything else than what he was subjecting himself to now.

While in the middle of a basic voice rehearsal (choreography would more than likely be introduced the day before, if they were lucky), he grazed his thumb over the sleek screen of his iPhone, hoping that he would suddenly gain the power of telepathy or whatever kind of magical ability that would make him just _know_ Blaine's phone number. Do people normally have these thoughts, or was he just absolutely crazy? A sudden _ahem_ of a clearing throat caught his attention from across the room; he immediately wished hadn't looked up, as he was unfortunately greeted by the stern glare of one Rachel Berry. It wasn't too long before he realized that all eyes were upon him, and not because of the knit poncho he decided to slip on this morning.

"You know, Kurt, for someone who's always complaining about never getting a solo, you really don't seem all too interested in doing your part when the opportunity arises," Rachel chided, tossing her chestnut hair over a shoulder in the most histrionic way that she could, which was honestly the only way she knew how. Kurt struggled to hide his phone into his pant pocket, lifting his hips from the seat in an attempt to slide it through the break in the tight fabric. Eventually he gave up, realizing that his failed attempts at storing away his phone was just causing him to look more embarrassing than he already felt. After adjusting himself on the plastic choir room chair, he attempted to clear his throat of the discomfort that he felt building behind his tongue. He knew he could have responded with a sharp tongue, something Rachel was all too familiar with when it came to them and Glee Club. But today, he just wasn't feeling it. So instead, he wiped his palms on the material of his black denim and struggled for a weak grin.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. You're right. I guess I just have a lot on my mind, but I shouldn't let that get in the way of rehearsal. I promise to be more focused."

Rachel tilted her head in confusion, not prepared for the somber response. Throughout the rest of practice, he felt those eyes continue to rest upon him in the same curious fashion. They continued to follow him out into the crowded corridor and all the way to his locker, no matter his effort to get lost in the student body pouring out through the many class room doors. She flanked herself onto Kurt's left side, clutching her textbooks to her chest as she quietly waited for Kurt to sort through his own materials. He busied himself for a few moments, hoping the wait could cause her to give up her try at prying. He shuffled through some pens he stored in a magnetized container he kept attached to the inside door of his locker; he rearranged his left over books according to class periods; he realigned his photos hiding along the insides and back metal walls. Kurt realized he could only occupy himself so much more before he started to become repetitive in his actions, and Rachel was relentless. As he dipped his fingers to grab the book he originally wanted to slip back into place in his locker, he peered over to the girl eagerly waiting to be acknowledged.

"Kurt," she finally cracked," are you feeling okay?"

With his text carefully positioned on the top shelf, he pushed the murky-grey metal door until the latch clicked, turning toward the persistent Rachel Berry. "I'm fine," he lied, lifting his shoulders into a shrug.

"From one drama queen to another," she began, almost hesitantly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "I think we both know when we are not at our best. And I was wondering if it was something you'd be willing to talk about." Her gaze dropped to the speckled ground, a foot shuffling against the surface, "Maybe I could help with something."

He couldn't say this was a significant difference in Rachel's attitude. He knew she meant well, but it was selective due to her current priorities. She was so determined to win, to make a name for herself, that she sometimes lost focus on the things occurring around her; unless they interfered with her success, of course. But she tried to have a good heart when she knew it was most appropriate; she sometimes sucked at it, but Kurt still appreciated the concern. Besides, it would be nice to get another opinion on his situation.

Unfortunately, Kurt had no time to respond to Rachel's request. He felt a sudden harsh pressure on his shoulder as the right side of his body was reintroduced to the cold metal of his locker door. He was usually so much more prepared for these confrontations, but today just seemed to consist of his attention being anywhere than where it should be. Following his collision, he heard the loud slap of heavy books meeting the terrazzo floor beside his feet. The impact just seemed to knock the breath out of his chest and the strength out of his knees, and he felt himself trailing downward to join his scattered books. As his body slipped down towards the ground, he heard the shrill voice of Rachel's disapproval force itself to envelope the culprits who continued to strut the hallway like pretentious peacocks.

"Jerks," Rachel called towards the gathering of boys donning the McKinley red and white, slapping palms with each other as they turned a corner. "I wish so many bad things in their futures," she sighed as she crouched down to Kurt's level, biting her lip as she noticed him nursing his now throbbing elbow. "Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"No, no I'll be okay," Kurt groaned, pulling himself up onto his feet with much effort. "The day's already over, there's no point now," he smiled weakly, attempting a painful shrug. This was not the way that he would have preferred to live out his Tuesday. Things seemed so much more difficult when there wasn't a pair of eyes the color of a cloudy lake to swim in.

* * *

><p>The squeaky scribbles of a dry erase marker bounced off of the wall of the Dalton academy classroom. The sea of blue and red blazers lay still, only rippling ever so slightly as the boys flicked their wrists to loops their Ls and strike their Ts. At the front of the class, Mr. Grutzburg continued to add accounts of WWII onto the white board. The only exception to the conforming mass was the slick haired boy in the last row, nearest to the window. He tapped his pen against his blank notebook paper, his chin in his palm as his gaze was tangled in the swaying branches dancing on the other side of the wall. It was Tuesday, and all day he just felt so…off. The entire day had been nothing but a movement of feet and a scratching of a pen; he just felt like he was gliding through the day, and not necessarily living it.<p>

A wad of paper met the side of the head, forcing him out of his thoughts and nearly his chair in surprise. He glanced around the room, searching for the origin of the paper ball before landing on Jeff. He noticed his friend had turned towards him, peering over his shoulder to ensure that the professor was still scribbling historic information in his bright purple marker.

"You okay," he mouthed, not risking a whisper. They had heard stories of students who had disrupted Mr. Grutzburg's class, rumors reaching as far back as 30 years. He was one of the oldest teachers at Dalton, and had the reputation to precede him. When such punishment was allowed back in the day, the story was that he would require students to kneel on bricks for ten minutes simply for talking out of turn. He also took the memorable detention method of banging erasers to a whole new level, informing the rest of the instructors before the day was over that he would be administering a detention period. And that cleaning of their erasers was not necessary. Although the chalk and slate had eventually been replaced with melamine and markers, there was talk that he kept a transferable chalkboard on wheels that he would make the students cover and erase until the entire box of chalk was deceased, only to have them clap the erasers afterwards. Nobody had witnessed any of these instances happening, but that may be due to the fear of recounting the events or the fear of finding out first hand. Regardless, Jeff did not want to be victim to any of these rumors.

Blaine peered to the front of the class before responding with a nod and a silent movement of his lips, "I'm fine."

But he wasn't being all together honest; at least he didn't think he was. He could tell that Jeff wasn't buying it either, but he didn't pry. After class, Blaine's feet took him from Stratton Hall and back towards his dorm building. Over his shoulder, he could hear Jeff and David sharing a laugh or two about a joke, a story, or just something that he wasn't necessarily paying attention to. As far as he was concerned, today, he was a drifting cloud. Oblivion followed him all the way across the courtyard, and also into the path of a stray red, rubber ball. If it was any other day, he would have been aware of the shouts of "look out" and "duck" calling out across the grass, but today was Tuesday. A final shot of "Blaine" bellowing from behind him ripped him from his trance, but the ball had already settled on its unwilling target. The rubber ball struck him hard in the arm, bouncing a few paces away to the sheepish faces of the guilty party.

"Our bad, Blaine," a cropped-haired boy he had recognized from an English period laughed nervously.

"Yeah, mate, but we were nearly shouting our heads off at ye," commented the second, unfamiliar student.

Blaine shook his head, waving away the concerned look on their faces, "No, no guys it's fine. I walked right into it. Guess I was kind of lost in thought or something." He reached for his right arm, rubbing the bruising spot just above his elbow as the boys raced away to return to their game. The uncomfortable throbbing in his arm wasn't the only thing that made him feel out of place in that moment. The eyes of Jeff and David continued to stare at him with the most quizzical looks, eyes peering from his face and again back to the arm he continued to nurse.

"What? You make it seem like getting hit by flying objects is a new thing here," Blaine chuckled quietly, rattled that his joke didn't make much of an impression on the two other Warblers. After an unsteady pause, he broke the quiet with his confession, "Seriously, guys, you're weirding me out."

"You're rubbing your right elbow, dude," Jeff explained.

The need to exchange this information was absolutely lost on Blaine. "Yes, Jeff, I was just hit with a dodgeball, in case you missed it."

"Blaine, I think he means to say that you're rubbing your right arm, but you were hit on your left," David restated, a brow lifted.

Blaine peered down to the hand that grasped his right arm, eyes squinting as he recounted the recent series of events. He had gotten pelted on his left side, so why was this the arm that throbbed so much?

"Maybe in an alternate life, you just fended off a goblin and it took a hit at your arm. This is just your body's way of recounting that memory," Jeff interjected, an amused grin on his lips and his bright eyes.

The sudden, random explanation stirred laughter between the three boys. The all too real, bizarre phenomena lost underneath bellowing voices. Continuing their route back to the dormitory, Jeff sustained the ongoing epic of _Blaine the Barbarian_ and his eternal struggle for justice over the goblin enslavers. Blaine's interest was only so involved once again before a dull ache in his elbow sought his attention. He had absolutely no explanation for it, but also assumed he shouldn't worry too much about it. Only if it happens again, then he'd look into setting up an appointment at the campus health clinic.

But it hadn't happened again.


	10. Author's Note: Help Me Finish

Author's Note: Alright, folks, here's the squeeze. I figured you all deserved some kind of upload of some sort, even if it is a note from me. This story has fallen away from me, more so from lack of interest than anything. See, writing isn't really my real field. I'm not a writer, I will admit to that completely. That being said, finding my way back here is very VERY difficult.

Today I decided to stumble back over here and amuse myself at what I read, thinking about the nearing end of Glee and all. After a few chapters, I was disappointed that I did not continue. I enjoyed what I wrote and honestly, I just wish someone else just NEW what I wanted and would finish. That being said, I've considered alternatives that may help me out. I MIGHT consider working on my story more, but with all of your help.

I'm LOVE it if you send me reviews on this "chapter" or messages about what you think should happen. I'm going to be 100% honest, I have the ending planned out, so that is out of the question for change. Well, two optional endings which I may just end up posting anyways. BUT, how should they get there? Considering the season when I started this story, a LOT has changed with the show and we've lost some wonderful people (RIP, dear Cory). So, please, help me get this out. I've lost my note and may need to start where I left off on whims.

How should the choir competition go? I've had song ideas thrown around for years, but any suggestions? How many chapters should high school take place? What else should happen in between now and graduation? Everyone will be personally thanked in each chapter for their addition if I take it.

Please, help me finish this happily ever after.

Love,

myhistrionics


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